


We're not gods

by flaminpumpkin



Series: Batlantern Week [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Green Lantern - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Grieving, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mention of Character Death, Takes place during Death of Superman (after the ceremony)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 05:33:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30016878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaminpumpkin/pseuds/flaminpumpkin
Summary: In the wake of Superman's death, Hal visits Bruce to check on him.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Clark Kent, Diana (Wonder Woman) & Bruce Wayne, Diana (Wonder Woman) & Hal Jordan, Hal Jordan/Bruce Wayne
Series: Batlantern Week [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2199015
Comments: 7
Kudos: 52
Collections: Batlantern Week





	We're not gods

**Author's Note:**

> Batlantern Week day 7: Hurt/Comfort!
> 
> I'm actually really, really proud of this one. I enjoyed writing it and it's my favorite so far (probably because I'm a slut for hurt/comfort but anyway), so I really hope you people will like it too ^^
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

“Lantern?”

Hal was getting ready to take off when he had heard Diana calling for him.

He turned around to face her, taking in her grave expression, her face marked by profound sadness. The Amazonian princess had put on a brave face during the ceremony, looking regal even in mourning but Hal knew her grief ran deeper than the loss of a comrade. Because he had seen that look already, on someone else’s face, the day of Superman’s death. Her affection for Clark hadn’t exactly been the most guarded secret among the League.

He was doubting she would accept it but he still opened his arms discreetly nonetheless, mindful of the curious eyes watching them. Surprisingly, she took the invitation and wrapped her arms around his shoulders with a defeated sigh. She was crushing him but he didn’t have the heart to tell her, simply embracing her in kind, hoping to at least give her some kind of relief.

“You good, princess?” he asked in a whisper when she pulled away, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders still.

A rueful smile appeared on her face when she answered.

“Do not worry about me, Lantern. Worry about yourself, for once.”

Hal wanted to remind her that he wasn’t one of the two people who had lost more than a fellow Leaguer after nearly dying herself but he guessed that with the ass whooping that monstrosity had given him, her own worries were justified. He still tried for one of his signature smirks however, hoping to put her a bit more at ease.

“I’m fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head with a fond look, squeezing his shoulders one last time before letting go of him completely, taking a step back.

“Since you are clearly leaving to see him, tell Batman I will visit him in a few days.”

Hal stalled and sputtered, eyes widening behind his green mask as he flailed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-” he started but was quickly silenced by the unimpressed stare she fixed on him.

“Sure you don’t. Not all of us are as oblivious and naïve as Flash, my friend.”

“Diana…”

What had been happening between Bruce and him…

Hal sighed.

They had been seeing each other for well over two years now. Nothing serious. Just an arrangement to blow off some steam when they needed it. Hal guessed they were fuck buddies. Except fuck buddies weren’t supposed to catch feelings, which he definitely had. And he was convinced Bruce had too. Because somewhere along the way, those eyes had softened when looking at him. Condescending smirks had turned into secretive smiles. Quick meetings at Bruce’s penthouse had developed into dinners and hours spent in bed talking or cuddling, both of them unable to keep their hands off of each other for long.

Bruce had always been an incredible lover, attentive, giving, but at some point, the way he touched Hal had changed. Every time they spent the night together, Hal felt loved. Revered and cared for on a deeply emotional level despite the carnal nature of what they did.

Hal just knew he loved him despite his best efforts at keeping his feelings at bay, at trying to keep their arrangement as impersonal as possible. And he could tell it was the same for Bruce. He just could. But even though things had changed recently, neither he nor Bruce had really acknowledged what it was. It was there, but it had no real name, no label stamped on it for them to really describe it.

“Just tell him, please,” she said after a few seconds of observing him silently. “I am worried about him and as a friend, I want to make sure he handles it in a healthy way instead of closing himself off like he did when…”

She trailed off but Hal knew exactly what she wanted to mention.

When the second Robin had died.

Jason's death had been hard for the entire League, a grim reminder that the world was an unfair place and that death loomed over all of them, always ready to strike. They had all witnessed the way the Bat had pushed away everything and everyone, even Dick, and thrown himself into his mission with the drive of a mad man. All of them had tried to pull him out of this madness, to make him understand that he was allowed to mourn, that guilt wasn’t what was going to bring back his son. Without any success.

Diana was afraid it was going to be the same. Hal was too. If it had been disheartening seeing the man this broken all those years ago, when they were still reluctant allies more than anything else, he couldn’t even imagine how it would feel like now that…

He nodded, squaring off his shoulders.

“I will.”

Diana gave him one last sad smile and with that she walked away, probably to answer more questions from reporters. Hal felt guilty for it, but for once he was glad she was the people’s favorite. It took the spotlight off of him. He had other places he needed to be.

The flight to Gotham was uneventful, to Hal’s relief.

Life as a hero had taught him to be wary every minute of every day, that the next catastrophe might happen earlier than expected. But recent event had amplified this wariness to levels he hadn’t known it could reach. Superman’s fate had reminded him how fragile and easy to kill he was despite having the universe’s greatest source of power wrapped around his finger. It had reminded him that life was fickle, flimsy, and that it should be cherished and cared for, that he should take the leap when his guts told him to, no matter how scared he was, because he might not be there anymore the next day.

That was why he was here, scanning the Wayne estate with his rings, searching for anything abnormal before landing. Because he had decided, against better judgement, to come visit Bruce and check on him, knowing that if he didn’t outright throw him out, the Bat would at the very least try to act like he was alright. Which Hal knew he wasn’t. He had seen his face when they had arrived on the wreckage that used to be the Hall of Justice. Years of knowing each other had taught him how to read him.

They had all lost something that day. A friend, a comrade, an ally. Bruce had lost his closest friend, the one person in this world he might have come to consider a brother. Hal knew this pain.

He landed soundlessly on the first step of the small stairs leading the big wooden door of the entry, willing his uniform out of existence the moment he touched the floor and hoping with everything he had that Alfred wouldn’t send him off on Bruce’s order as he rang the bell. The old butler looked almost relieved when he opened the door, not asking any questions and simply leading him to where Bruce was with a short “this way, Captain Jordan”.

Alfred knew about his and Bruce relationship, if you could call it that. They had never been stupid enough to believe he hadn’t caught onto their little act, like Bruce spending the night at his fancy penthouse in downtown Gotham wasn’t linked to Green Lantern being sighted in Batman’s city. Thankfully, none of his kids really lived at the manor anymore – or at least not regularly – so they hadn’t noticed. Except maybe…

Hal caught a glimpse of Damian as they passed one of the rooms and the kid glared at him when their eyes met. He didn’t take it personally, suspecting it was his default expression, just like his father. He already had so much of Bruce, judging by the little bits and pieces he had gathered the few times he had seen him or when the other man had talked about him in a moment of rare complete comfort. He might as well had taken after his father for that too. Damian was like a mini Bruce.

Hal would have snorted at the thought if he hadn’t been so preoccupied by the Bat and the general situation they were in.

After passing another couple of empty rooms, Alfred led him in front of Bruce’s study, if the memory of the last time he was in the manor years ago served. They stopped a couple of feet away from the door though, Hal shocked to find the old butler’s wrinkled hand grabbing his forearm lightly.

“I know this is not my place to ask but please reason him. I managed to keep him from burying himself away in his cave but there is only so much I can do. He seems to listen to you, at the very least.”

Hal gave the old man what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“You put too much faith in me but I’ll try, Alfred. Thank you.”

“No, Captain Jordan. Thank _you_.”

Hal watched him leave, lips forming a thin line. Alfred’s words hadn’t really eased his worry and he doubted that Bruce actually listened to him more than he would to any member of his family. Especially Alfred, whom everybody knew was like a father to him. But he owed it to the old man to at least try now that he had promised him he would.

With that thought in mind, he squared his shoulders and took the last few steps separating him from the door. It was ajar, letting the rustling sound of paper come through, which meant Bruce was certainly, very obstinately going over files and cases. Unsurprising, really. It might as well be categorized as the Bat’s M.O when it came to dealing with trauma. It really didn’t make the odds of making Bruce try to mourn like a normal person seem any easier to Hal.

Shaking his head, he pushed the door open gently, revealing the study as he remembered it. Giant windows on the opposite wall, flooding the room with light, every single piece of furniture screaming outrageously expensive but somehow comfortable to Hal.

And behind the huge mahogany desk, hunched over and looking like death not even warmed over, sat Bruce.

He was wearing a deep burgundy robe made in a fluid material – probably silk, Hal wouldn’t put it past Bruce’s fancy billionaire tastes. It was loosely tied, letting the wide expense of his chest visible and thus, the bandages wrapped around it too. Hal winced at the sight. It wasn’t surprising to be fair, given the state he had found the man in when had finally regained enough strength to check on the heroes Doomsday had left behind, all of them in different states of consciousness. The pilot could barely stand to watch him, to keep himself from reaching out and caress the battered skin.

It was even worse when Bruce lifted his head to check who had intruded, an almost imperceptible flinch making his eyes narrow as he tried to scowl and stopped immediately. The busted lip, the large bruise on his left cheekbone where the skin had been put under so much pressure it had ruptured, leaving a cut behind, the gash on his forehead disappearing into jet black hair. All of it made Hal want to punch the wall.

He didn’t, but his hands still clenched into tight fists at his sides.

“What are you doing here?”

His voice was his usual deep baritone but the underlying tiredness the pilot could hear in it was undeniable.

“Came to check on you,” he said with a shrug, aiming for a casual tone and failing miserably.

There was no hiding the concern in his voice. Hell, it was transpiring into every fiber of his being. He didn’t even know _why_ he wanted to hide it. A reflex probably, a defense mechanism. But there was no need for that around Bruce.

“I’m fine,” the Bat grumbled, pinching his lips together as he averted his eyes, pretending to go back to whatever he had been doing.

“No you’re not, Bruce.”

And oh, he hadn’t meant for his tone to sound this harsh and exasperated. Hal closed his eyes, took a breath through his nose, held it for a second and then exhaled long and deep, centering himself. He’d practically had no sleep for the past three days and had barely eaten anything since the day before but it wasn’t an excuse. He had come here for a reason.

“You’re allowed to grieve, you know?” he tried again, his voice softer.

Opening his eyes again, he saw Bruce staring at him, his expression unreadable. When he spoke, his voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

“You don’t have to be here, Jordan.”

 _No shit_ , he wanted to say.

But instead, he rounded the desk to get closer to Bruce. He couldn’t stand to see him like this, trying to push away Hal even though the pilot knew it was the last thing he wanted. Whatever was between them, even though it had started as something purely practical, it wasn’t anymore. For neither of them. And it wrenched Hal’s heart to see the other man like this.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice sounding incredibly loud in the quiet room. “But I want too. I don’t… I don’t like seeing you like this.”

He sat on the desk next to Bruce’s elbow, hands in his jacket’s pockets, facing the windows. For a long time, he stared at the garden outside, at the sun going down, fiery golden rays of light painting a gentler silhouette to Gotham City’s skyline. He waited patiently for Bruce to choose between being a stubborn asshole or letting himself be cared for, for once in his life.

After what felt like hours but was certainly only minutes since the sun was still visible, Hal heard the other man heave a defeated sigh before turning his chesterfield armchair in the pilot’s general direction. He greeted his teeth when he turned his head to look at the other man fully, taking him in.

Now that he wasn’t half hidden by the desk, Hal was able to see the myriad of bruises below the bandages, on Bruce’s abdomen. A sick painting of black, blue and purple hues on his perfect body, making his already fair skin look even paler. Hal hated this. And he hated it even more when he saw the very obvious wince and pause Bruce made as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, head falling between his hands. The strained exhale he let out was enough to tell him the pain he was feeling wasn’t only emotional.

But his physical pain wasn’t the most pressing matter here, even though Hal had to suppress the urge to feed him some painkillers. If Alfred had let him out and about, it meant that at the very least, the Bat was safe on a physical level.

“I’m sorry-” he started but Bruce cut him off immediately, straightening up with a pained growl, his voice harsh.

“If you say _I’m sorry for your loss_ , I will throw you out this window, Jordan. I do _not_ care about dislocating my shoulder again. I’ve had enough.”

Bruce was glaring at him, blue eyes hard with anger. Hal could see though, the bone deep sadness, the grief behind it.

“I wasn’t going to,” he assured, voice low and soft still.

He stared at him and the pilot stared back, careful to keep his gaze devoid of any kind of pity, but the Bat’s jaw was still tight when he opened his mouth again to growl at Hal between gritted teeth.

“Great.”

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, Bruce leaning back against the backrest of his seat with a quiet groan and Hal staring at him carefully, observing. When he was sure Bruce wouldn’t snap at him again, he opened his mouth to talk.

“I was going to say that I’m sorry we couldn’t do anything against that thing and that Clark dying was what it took to stop it.”

“If you had listened to me when I said we needed to regroup, maybe he would still-”

Hal was the one cutting him off this time, raising a hand to silence Bruce, his own eyes hardening at the accusation. He’d had that same thought haunting him ever since that fateful day but he knew it was guilt talking, knew deep down that he did what was necessary to avoid more casualties.

“He wouldn’t be, Bruce,” he said firmly. “Believe me. I did what I had to do with the small window of time we had. I know it. You know it. You don’t think the words you were about to say because you actually blame yourself too much to even realize this was completely out of our control.”

He paused, watching Bruce’s jaw work as he gritted his teeth.

“That thing… Whatever it was, it was on a rampage. It was too strong for us. It was too strong for Clark. We’re not gods, Bruce. No matter what we tell ourselves, we’re not.”

Bruce stayed silent after that, looking up at him, his beautiful face deformed by grief and hurt, and Hal couldn’t stand it anymore. He lifted his hand to Bruce’s face, tracing his fingertips in a feather light touch along his temple, his cheek, his jawline, mindful of the wounds and bruises, brushed his thumb tenderly against his damaged lower lip.

“You loved him a lot, didn’t you?” he asked with a sad smile.

Bruce hesitated, eyes roaming Hal’s face, as if unsure of what he was supposed to say. Thinking back on it, he should have worded it a bit differently. He hadn’t meant for it to sound like he was asking about romantic love but seeing Bruce taking so long to answer, obviously choosing his words with extreme care, was almost funny because of how out of character it was. Who would’ve known the man hiding behind Batman’s cowl was so endearing?

“Yes,” he finally uttered, quietly.

Hal smiled reassuringly, leaning in to kiss Bruce’s forehead. Bruce chased after the light touch but the pilot had sat back up again so he could look him in the eyes when he spoke again.

“I’m sure he knew that. He knew you considered him your best friend even though that stick is too far up your ass for you to ever admit it.”

That earned him a twitch of Bruce’s lips. It was small, almost imperceptible but at least he had managed to get a positive reaction out of him.

“Thank god, I have you around to translate my thoughts then,” and there it was.

The ghost of a smirk on Bruce’s lips. It was gone nearly as soon as it had appeared but it was there long enough to make Hal snort.

Silence filled the room a few seconds later but Hal knew he had at least started to put Bruce on a better path. He wouldn’t scream victory yet, but he was ready to latch onto this sliver of hope like a lifeline and make it work. Maybe Alfred had been right about the Bat listening to him. He felt oddly proud.

His train of thought was interrupted when Bruce leaned forward to rest his forehead on his stomach with a shuddering breath, sliding closer to the edge of his seat. Hal ran a hand through his hair tenderly, massaging his scalp, his nape, stroking his thumb against the patch of skin behind his ear. He could feel Bruce relax minutely against him, a tension he hadn’t even realized was there leaving the other man’s body.

They stayed like that for a while, Bruce pulling him in his lap at some point. The pilot went along reluctantly, afraid to hurt him further – he didn’t want to land himself on Alfred’s bad side. When all he received for his carefulness was an annoyed grunt, he let himself be manhandled begrudgingly, still mindful to lean against the side where Bruce’s ribs weren’t broken.

Alfred found them like this an hour later, Hal feeling himself blush at the raised eyebrow the butler turned on him but he must have taken pity on the pilot because he didn’t even mention it, simply announcing that dinner was ready.

“Guess that’s my cue to leave,” Hal whispered with one last kiss to Bruce’s forehead before standing up.

Or at least trying to.

Bruce’s arms kept him where he was, still nestled in the other man’s lap. His glacier eyes were once again flicking all over Hal’s face, searching.

“Stay,” he finally asked.

Hal hesitated, lips pursing.

“Are you sure? I saw Damian when I arrived and-”

“I’m sure. Did you even eat anything today?”

Well, at least he had the decency to look sheepish when he rubbed the back of his head.

“You know the ring takes care of that stuff.”

There was a long pause but it wasn’t that Hal didn’t want to stay. He was dying to. But the manor was Bruce’s home, his family’s home, and everyone knew how fiercely protective he was of them. That was why they had never met here. But now he was asking _Hal_ to stay, when his son was here.

“Hal, please,” he murmured nuzzling his cheek. “Stay here tonight.”

A small part of his brain, a vicious, self-depreciating part told him Bruce was asking only because of his grief, because he didn’t want to be alone. And maybe this small part was right in a way. But he also knew that he hadn’t imagined everything that had happened between them for months now. So he accepted.

And in the end, Hal never really left.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As usual, I'm a writer so feedback keeps me going (like, no kidding, all the kind words you all left this week on my fics made me so happy, you have no idea, thank you TT.TT)
> 
> This is my last official entry for batlantern week BUT I have two other fics in work because I was inspired by the prompts (and maybe a third? Don't know yet, I might get terrifed and overwhelmed by my own idea, we'll see). I didn't have time for anything but proofreading these past few days but hopefully, I should be able to get at least two out during the extra days so stick around if you wanna see more, I guess ^^ 
> 
> I'm also on twitter ( @Dpressedpumpkin ) and tumblr ( @flaminpumpkin )


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